


you'd be standing in my front porch light.

by whisper57



Series: i can tell you, i love him each day. [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27876458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisper57/pseuds/whisper57
Summary: ian goes to see mickey.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: i can tell you, i love him each day. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041026
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	you'd be standing in my front porch light.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He looks good. So very good.

Ian’s heart aches.

“Hey,” Ian says, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Shuffling nervously on his feet. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt nervous. He hasn’t cared enough about much these past few months—has been _numb_ —and he certainly didn’t feel it during the heights of his mania. No, then he was indestructible and fearless. He kind of misses it. Shouldn’t, probably, but he does anyway. Who wouldn’t?

But, yeah, he hasn’t been nervous in a long, long while. It has been as foreign a concept to him as good parents.

He should’ve known, though, that of all people, Mickey Milkovich would change that. That Mickey Milkovich would make him feel something he didn’t think he could feel. Not anymore.

Ian loves him.

_What does that even mean?_

Mickey is in front of him. One eyebrow raised, looking distinctly unimpressed. Arms crossed in front of his chest. Ian would think he looked defensive, if it weren’t for the fact that he looks… well, _unimpressed_. Unaffected. Like Ian’s presence isn’t a surprise, and everything that’ll probably come out of his mouth in the foreseeable future won’t be, either.

Ian doesn’t know what to do with that.

His heart thuds.

“I’m— Um. How-How are you?” Ian cringes internally.

“Great,” Mickey says, voice flat.

Ian nods. “Right. Good. That’s really good. I’m glad.” Ian kinda maybe wants to hit himself.

Mickey sighs.

“How are you, then?” Mickey asks.

“Oh. I’m… better. I guess.” A nervous chuckle. “Though I don’t know what the fuck _better_ is supposed to be. I’m going to therapy.” Ian says the last sentence in the tone a child might use while trying to please an adult whose opinion matters a lot. Ian feels like a puppy, trying to get approval.

He wants Mickey’s approval.

He wants Mickey, that’s all.

“Yeah? Good.” Mickey sounds like he’s actually happy for him. Proud of him, maybe. 

Ian preens inside. A little.

 _I love you I love you I love you_ , Ian wants to say.

Doesn’t, because he’s scared of maybe hearing _What does that even mean?_ back.

Ian thinks he maybe hurt himself more that day than he did Mickey.

Mickey is still standing there, in front of him. Waiting. It’s been silent for so long.

It isn’t really uncomfortable.

“I’m—“ Ian takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Opens them, and says, “I’m doing better, Mickey.” He thinks his eyes are wet.

Mickey raises an eyebrow again. Ian loves him. “You already said that.”

Ian shakes his head. He feels like a child. Ian thinks he is. Kind of. Do children hurt people like Ian has? “No. I. _Mickey_. I- I want.” The lump in his throat doesn’t let him continue.

Mickey is still looking at him steadily. Patiently. Like he’d wait here all day; wait for Ian to stop stumbling over his words and say what he wants to. “Want what, Ian?” Mickey asks.

It’s the first time in this conversation he’s said Ian’s name. It’s the first time in so, so long he has heard his name fall from Mickey Milkovich’s lips. Ian wants to hear him say it again and again and again. Forever.

For the rest of his life.

_You gonna marry me? Are we gonna go down to the courthouse in some tuxes like a couple of old queens?_

Ian hates himself so much sometimes he doesn’t know how he can stand to be in his body.

“ _You_.” Ian exhales, shakily. Says, “You, Mick, I want you. I need you. Always. Please. Just. _Mick_. I don’t.” There’s that stupid lump again. “I don’t deserve it. Probably. I know. But please. Just fucking— just fucking take me back. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking _sorry_.”

There are tears flowing down Ian’s cheeks now. There’s still that lump in his throat. He hasn’t really looked at Mickey; has looked at his shoes, and at the floor, and at Mickey’s shoulder, and at his crossed arms. But not at Mickey.

He looks up now, and his heart is beating so fast. It kind of hurts.

There’s softness in Mickey’s eyes. Fondness. Ian’s breath catches. Mickey is looking at _Ian_ like that.

Mickey steps forward. His lips are quirked in a small, _fond_ smile. He puts his hand on Ian’s cheek. It’s warm and Ian melts; exhales shakily. Ian brings his head down until their foreheads are touching. Ian feels like he’s alive. He feels complete and whole and he never ever wants to be away from Mickey.

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re sorry for, but okay.” Mickey says, and caresses Ian’s cheekbone, softly. Ian leans into the touch.

Mickey smiles again, though this time it’s wider, and Ian _loves_ him.

“Let’s go inside, okay?” Mickey asks, and Ian nods, rubbing his nose with Mickey’s.

Mickey takes Ian’s hand and leads him in through the doorway.

**Author's Note:**

> yay. i finally wrote a sequel to this!!! it's bleh. but still.


End file.
